Rising
by Dishabille
Summary: All about Peeta and his love for Katniss, with glimpses from his point of view throughout the books and post-Mockingjay epilogue - or so I've planned. Please read and review!


**CHAPTER ONE: Hello**

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><p>Peeta Mellark's heart dropped. The feeling was unlike anything he had ever felt before. The world momentarily turned into a fog, despite the sun being in his eyes. He saw chapped lips agape around him.<p>

The slow, painful wail of Katniss Everdeen filled the air. His heart was racing. He saw dark hair against the white of the Peacekeepers.

_Do something_, a voice in his head said clearly, calmly.

_But what?_ Peeta thought. He could feel his knees buckling, where cold sweat had just been running down into his too loose socks and stiff shoes. He experienced the same enormous dread every year for this very day.

Peeta swallowed, mind racing.

A flash of anger rose in him, at himself, for being such a coward, for being a unable to think of something, anything, to prevent her from leaving.

His eyes picked up a swift movement rippling through the rows of boys and young men ahead of him. Gale Hawthorne, striding forwards. Katniss saying something, Primrose wailing in response, louder and louder against the trembling silence.

Primrose was then roughly taken away by Peacekeepers, her cries fading. Gale was unceremoniously pushed back into the line.

"Volunteer–"

_No. No!_

Peeta thought of all the times he wanted to say something, to strike up a conversation with Katniss Everdeen. He thought of all the times he glimpsed her in the square from the bakery. She had a seriousness about her that he understood. Life was hard in District 12. More often than not, however, she was always laughing, thin as bones, hints of mischief playing in her grey eyes. He thought of the time he had come out from the back of the bakery with an armful of bread and had stopped short upon seeing Katniss and her sister outside, their noses pressed against the filthy windows. The windows that were forever coated with a fine film of coal dust. Katniss and Primrose were pointing and smiling at the cakes he had decorated. Peeta wished he could have gone and said hello that day, but he somehow knew she would disappear from the window before he could.

Some words are being spoken on the stage. There is a bit of thrashing by the drunken former Victor. Loudly, Effie asks for an applause, her hand extended toward Katniss.

Peeta fully understands now that Katniss has volunteered for her sister, and he feels rage that Effie Trinket is asking them to put their hands together for this cruel occasion. Before he realizes it, he puts three fingers to his lips gently, and raises his hand in the air towards Katniss, stiff and small from where he stands.

Everyone follows suit. There are many arms in the air.

Peeta swallows and lowers his hand.

_Think, Peeta, think!_

Effie Trinket giggles nervously in her ill green outfit, saying something else.

Peeta, still in shock, watches her as she reaches her hand into the strips of paper.

_Now for us_, he thought grimly.

A sudden idea.

_Let it be me._

He could follow her to the Games. He would protect her. He would not harm her.

_Let it be me! I could volunteer, too!_

Peeta realizes that if he dies, no one would miss him. He was not close to his brothers. He was not close to his father, not as close as he wanted to be. A wave of anguish fills him momentarily. Peeta thinks of the paints he has made early this morning from earth, from berries still wet with dew, from some crushed leaves. He had needed something to distract him. He thought that if all went well, he would go home and paint today. He had even baked a special batch of cookies for the small feast tonight. Peeta thinks of his brothers, his father, and his teachers at school who have pride in him – more than ever shown by his mother. He thinks of the corner of the bakery where he sits and dreams, sometimes sketching when his mother is not around. But all this is nothing compared to Katniss' ringing laughter and clear voice, which he may never hear again.

A moment of silence. Effie is unfurling the paper she has just retrieved. Effie opens her painted mouth. Peeta bows his head. He gathers his courage, bracing himself for any pandemonium that may be caused with what he has resolved to do.

"Peeta. . ."

Peeta's head snaps up.

". . .Mellark."

He smiles a ghost of a smile. First in the family. First of the siblings. First to die. He can hardly believe his twisted luck.

His friends turn slightly to look at him, mute horror in their eyes. There is a gasp or two.

Each step he takes toward the stage, a nauseous and ugly urge to flee rises up in him. He sees Effie's extended hand, beckoning to him like a nightmarish bird.

He forces himself to step forward. _Katniss_, the same voice in his head reassures him. She is the biggest secret he has kept for years. He has thought about her for more days than he can count. He dares not look at her, and wonders what she is thinking, if she is looking at him like the rest of District 12.

As he ascends the steps, he looks briefly at the sky. He sees, out of the corner of his eye as he is gently pushed towards Effie, Katniss' clenched fists. The colour of the sky matches her dress.

Peeta thinks of the dough he will never get to knead again as he scans the pale faces before him. _They must feel so relieved_, he thinks. He remembers the sweet smell of the icing in the air at the back of the bakery. Peeta is suddenly horribly frightened, because flour and sugar is all he knows. But he is not frightened for himself, he is frightened for Katniss. Then he is reminded that he is master of the fire in his ovens, too, his work that gives his bread that warm crispness.

Peeta resolves to use all he knows to save her.

He will take the swords, the fists, the bitter cold, the arrows–

Peeta nearly chuckles at the thought of arrows. _Let her kill me_. _There is a beauty to it_.

He is reminded of the squirrels and Gale Hawthorne. Everyone knew. Peeta knows that it will be neat and merciful.

__Hello, Katniss. My name is Peeta Mellark.__

Even if she doesn't speak to him, he will at least get to say hello for the first time.

Peeta Mellark is not afraid of pain. His mother has had her way with him for a very long time. He looks at his father in the crowd, whose face is threatening to crumble under the sadness and exhaustion, arms hanging limply at the sides. His mother is at home, always in bed at the Reapings. His father turns around and walks away.

_Where is he going?_ Peeta hopes his father has gone to get his mother. He wants to say goodbye and tell his family members that he loves them.

Peeta is aware that the only pain he is frightened of in the whole of Panem is not getting to see Katniss again. There is no other girl like her in any District, he is very certain of that. Singing, hunting, surviving.

This is the best thing that has happened to Peeta in his short life, since the day he threw her that burned loaf. For days afterwards, he had hoped they would be friends.

Peeta faces Katniss. They both extend their hands. Peeta touches her hand for the first time, and holds it as tenderly as he can. Her cold fingers are calloused, but light and somehow soft. Something in him blooms, an aching happiness. Peeta lets out a deep breath as he releases her hand, as the feeling reaches its swell and fades away.

He meets her hard gaze and hopes she cannot see his brief joy, for who else but a lunatic would feel happy with this horrible turn of events?

Peeta thinks, _Finally, the odds are in my favour_.

There was nothing more comforting to him than the fact that Katniss Everdeen was going to be at his side in his final days.

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><p><strong>Note:<strong> Suzanne Collins owns the series. I have only been acquainted with her stories for a week, which I devoured, and was throroughly smitten with Peeta/Katniss and the nature of their relationship. More to come.


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